


make it out alive

by Love_Me_Dead



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Diseases, Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, don't worry it isn't bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:33:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Me_Dead/pseuds/Love_Me_Dead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is just having a normal day at work until heartthrob Harry Styles ends up in his emergency room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make it out alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [etamine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etamine/gifts).



> so i wanted this to be a lot longer and a lot deeper but i ended up drowning in schoolwork so i apologize for that. happy holidays to you, etamine, i hope you love this. i kind of twisted the prompt and made 'injury' into 'severe illness complication' so i hope that's all right too. but of course, i don't know anything about diabetes or diabetic ketoacidosis because i'm not an expert and all i know is what wikipedia and a few google searches told me and also a story from a family member. i'm sorry about any mistakes in it, feel free to politely correct me!
> 
> and thanks to m, my wonderful beta who looked this over on such short notice. thank you so much.
> 
> the title is lifted from one direction's 'ready to run'. enjoy!

Louis gets home from work at nine, the emergency room busy and running him into overtime, which isn’t really all bad, and leans down to chuck his ragdoll cat, Neville, under the chin. She purrs and follows him to his room, crying outside his door as he changes out of his work clothes and then laces between his legs as he goes to the kitchen. He pats her, kneeling down while the leftovers he’s eating for a late dinner are warming up in the microwave, her purr comforting after a stressful day. He checks his phone after he stirs the contents around to ensure even heating throughout, finding a text from his mum, a picture of his sister Fizzy showing off her new insulin pump with a caption saying they’re thrilled the new one came so early.

He retrieves his bowl from the microwave as he taps out a quick reply, telling them that he’s glad it came quickly and he sits on the couch with his dinner and he turns on the telly, Neville curling up against his thigh and purring. The news is just ending, the hosts signing off and Louis is too focused on digging into his food to change it to something more interesting as a celebrity news show comes on. The beginning is far too dramatic, using black and white and slowed down video to show Justin Bieber might be spiralling into drugs and highlighting smiles and images of a happy family to get the point across that Angelina Jolie is talented.

Louis is only half paying attention, really just staring at his food as he eats and trying to finish it before it cools off and gets soggy and gross. He hears a drop of the name One Direction and glances up, knowing that his sisters are massive fans and both of them have papered their bedrooms in posters and magazine cut-outs. They’re all attractive young men and their music is phenomenal for a boy band and Louis was interested from the first time Fizzy mentioned them and mentioned that one of them had type one diabetes like she did and used a pump like she did.

He pauses in shovelling food into his mouth, watching the dumb clip of the band on some red carpet, all of them looking well put together and beautiful, the dark-haired one with the cheekbones giving a look that Louis knows is making someone out there weak at the knees (and it might just be him). There’s some voice-over about how the band has announced a worldwide tour and tickets go on sale soon before the man’s voice, grating and annoying, says that “Jessica” got an interview with them.

Showing the three boys on the red carpet again, dressed in clothes that Louis could never even dream of affording, a woman with red hair holds the microphone. “I’m here with One Direction!” She says, her excitement partially feigned. “Now, boys, you’ve just announced a  _worldwide_   _stadium tour_ , how are you feeling about that?”

The short blond one leans into the microphone, licking his lips before he answers. “Well, we’re extremely excited about it and we never thought we’d get to where we are now so this is just incredible,” he says with an Irish lilt.

“Zayn, what does this mean for your relationship with Perrie?”

The dark-haired one stiffens a little. “Uh, we’re going to do our best with our busy schedules. We, er, we’re good at making time for each other even while, um, we’re both, like, very busy and everything.”

“And Harry, I understand you’ve had some health issues lately?” She asks, finally singling out the one she’s obviously been itching to get to and Louis can’t quite understand why. The dark-haired one – Zayn – is so beautiful.

“Um, yeah,” the tall, curly-haired one says. “It’s nothing major, just sort of stuff I’ve been dealing with my whole life.”

“How do you think being on tour will affect this?”

Harry chuckles. “Well, it didn’t the last time we were on tour so I’m hopeful it won’t this time. We have a lovely health crew with us making sure we’re eating right and we have a personal trainer and I’m – I’ll be fine.”

Louis stops paying attention when they switch to talking about when tickets are on sale and discuss the show dates, the tour kicking off in London in three months. He sort of does pay attention because his sisters will go absolutely mental for that and if he could be the brother that scores them VIP tickets, he would be the best brother in the entire world. He makes a note in his phone to check it out, finishing his leftovers and showering before he goes to bed.

“Mum got us tickets!” Fizzy squeals on the phone, her voice coming through his car’s speakers as he drives to work.

“She did? Damn, I was going to get you tickets,” Louis chuckles. “That’s amazing, love, I’m really happy.”

“Well, you could give us money to buy t-shirts and posters and stuff while we’re there,” she explains, hopeful and so excited she forgets her manners.

“Are all four of you going?” Louis asks, biting back an expletive as someone cuts him off. He has to be a good role model and all and his mum still scolds him for swearing in front of the girls even though he’s a doctor.

“Yeah!”

“That’ll be really fun for you guys. Make sure to take care of the twins, though, yeah? They’re young and everything.”

Fizzy is quiet and Louis can hear the sounds of some show on in the background, followed by her humming worriedly. “Harry doesn’t look well.”

“It’s probably just all the stuff he’s doing getting to him,” Louis assures her, parking in his spot. He’s been asked to diagnose them before by his sisters, just through paparazzi pictures that totally washed out their skin with flash and just made them look sick and every time he’s said something about sleep and how much they’re doing at the time. “He’s probably just tired.”

“They’re playing tonight on X-Factor and I’m worried, Lou.” He can almost hear the pout in her voice.

“If he comes into the hospital, I’ll make sure he’s got a clean bill of health before he leaves,” he promises. “I’ve to go to work, okay? I’m glad mum got you tickets and I love you all very much. Give your sisters and mum my love.”

“Love you too, have fun at work.”

He hangs up and goes into work, starting the cycle of dealing with sick and injured people and washing his hands raw. On his break, he moisturizes the hell out of them as he chats with Liam about things, making plans to get drinks with a few of their mates over the weekend while they aren’t here, working.

Louis complains about work a lot but that’s mostly because his hands are constantly dry and cracking and there are often days where he gets bled and vomited on, which are always really big highlights of his day. Possibly his favourite story to date is the time he had to help deliver a baby because the woman’s OB-GYN was stuck in traffic; he panicked a little and nearly cried but the baby was delivered healthy and both mother and child were fine, though they left everyone involved a little spooked. Despite the bad days and the cracked hands, Louis loves what he does and if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have spent tens of thousands of pounds on training to be a doctor and he wouldn’t still be doing it.

Louis is walking through the halls of the hospital, intent on checking on the boy who came in accompanied by his mum with horrible food poisoning, when his pager goes off with a memo to get to the ER as soon as he can. He turns around, hurrying down the hallway back to the A&E, where he just came from. It’s inconveniencing but it’s an emergency and the minor inconvenience of walking back the way he came is incomparable to a potential life-threatening emergency.

Coming up to the A&E, he immediately recognizes that this isn’t just a regular car accident by the amount of burly men standing around and as he approaches, he sees that the person being spoken to by nurses is a popstar.

Harry Styles is sitting on a stretcher, hyperventilating while nurses asked him what was wrong, in his hospital.

Fizzy, worried about her favourite popstar, sprints through his mind as he rushes over to him. He has to push past the burly men with mumbled pleads for them to move, trying his best to remain polite despite how they’re blocking him from his patient, whose face is getting paler by the second.

 

After he’s spent a good half hour calming Harry down and running blood tests all while being tailed by the bodyguards and PR representatives who are demanding to know what they can say to the public, he’s finally certain on a diagnosis of severe diabetic ketoacidosis. Louis orders fluid replacement and insulin for him, thinking he might be able to move onto someone else and walking back into the hall past the towering bodyguards when one of the nurses, Eleanor, calls him back just minutes later.

“He doesn’t know what’s going on,” she explains, her hair slipping out of its ponytail. “I can’t get the needle in.”

Louis remarks silently about how strange this is to be experiencing a constantly poised international popstar crying about a needle. “Do you need me? Or do you want me to get Jade?”

“She went home sick, do you have a minute?”

He nods, since he really can spare a few minutes to help her get a needle in Harry’s arm. He isn’t that busy.

He follows her back to Harry’s room, a bed as far away from the others as possible in the ICU with the curtains flanked by bodyguards, Harry on the bed, sniffling and sitting on his hands.

“If you’re going to feel better, we have to put the needle in,” Eleanor explains in a soft voice.

Harry shakes his head. “No.”

“You wear a pump, don’t you? It’s the same thing, just in your hand instead of your hip.”

Unable to find an argument, he pouts and looks away, shaking his head again.

“Harry, yeah?” Louis says, pulling a chair up and sitting next to him.

He looks at him, shy and untrusting, but he nods after a moment of hesitation.

“I’m Louis and you’ve been really brave so far, like earlier when we had to take your blood. Do you think I could see your hands?”

He starts to pull them out from under his thighs but he stops, frowning and burying them deeper.

“It’ll just be a tiny pinch and then you’ll be fine and you can get some sleep, okay? Your lips look pretty dry too so Eleanor can get you some ice chips once you’ve done this, all right?”

Harry tugs his hands out from under his thigh and Louis grabs it firmly, making sure to keep a gentle edge to it while Eleanor takes the other.

“Look at me,” Louis says quietly. He hasn’t been a doctor for very long but he’s already built a reputation for being good with children and distraught people.

He looks at him, sniffling again as Eleanor gets the needle for the IV ready.

“Tell me some things that make you happy.”

Harry sniffs, wincing slightly as Eleanor rubbed a little disinfectant. “Uh, I like performing. I like my mum’s at Christmas. Niall. Zayn.”

“Mhm?” Louis prods, giving him a smile to keep his focus on him.

“I like your eyes,” Harry mumbles. “They’re pretty.”

Louis is taken aback while Harry yelps as Eleanor gets the needle in and he clears his throat to draw Harry’s attention back to him. “Thank you. Tell me more nice things, she’s almost done.”

Harry looks at him again. “Your smile, that’s a nice thing.”

He’s taken aback again but smiles just so Harry cracks the smallest of smiles. “You did really good, Harry, thank you.”

He nods and looks down at his hand where the needle has gone in and is taped down; he whimpers softly.

“You okay?” Louis asks, wondering if there’s anything he could do. He could get him an anti-anxiety but he doesn’t think he’s well enough to metabolise it.

Harry shrugs. “Don’t like needles…”

“Yeah, but it’ll help. Get some rest, yeah? Your family will be here soon, probably.”

He nods and lies down a little more, looking even more stupefied and Louis hopes the meds kick in quickly.

Louis continues on his way to visit other patients, checks on a little girl who slammed her finger in the door and dislocated it before visiting a young couple with acute alcohol poisoning. It’s almost a normal night, until he’s walking around the A&E entrance to see another round of burly men, unfamiliar, and two men around his age, too pretty to be regular people asking for help with an emergency. They’re familiar, Zayn and Niall from Harry’s band, arguing with a nurse.

He steps in. “Is there anything I can help you with?” He asks calmly, interrupting poor Danielle trying to say that she should contact a doctor.

“Yeah,” Niall says, Irish lilt obvious in the single syllable. “We need to see Harry.”

“Or at least know how he’s doing,” Zayn puts in, looking just as anxious as Niall but keeping calmer, not arguing with anyone.

“Are you family members?” Louis asks. “Harry’s in the ICU, only family is allowed to visit.”

Niall and Zayn exchange a look. “Uh, I’m technically his stepbrother,” Niall says. “And Zayn is a cousin.”

Louis sighs.

“Come on, my mum dated his dad for a while when I was fourteen, doesn’t that count?”

“Boys -”

“Please at least tell us how he is,” Zayn says softly. “We know we’re not family by blood but I’ve spent the last three years with him, legitimately seeing him almost every day. What’s wrong with him and will he be okay?”

He isn’t supposed to discuss details of cases with non-family members. “It’s just a diabetic complication and he’ll be fine.”

“Is his head okay? He complained of his head,” Niall says, still worried, while Zayn looks visibly calmer.

“His head is fine,” Louis says. “When his family comes, I’m sure you can ask them for more details.”

Niall nods and calms a little, the tension dissipating from his shoulders. “Okay. Is there anywhere we can wait that’s not so public?”

Louis nods, starting to lead them to a private waiting room. “Are you sure you want to stay?” He thinks they would be more comfortable at home and they could get Harry’s family to call them.

“Yeah. Tell Anne we’re here.”

Louis tells him that he’ll be sure to and about a half hour later, he meets Harry’s family, his mum and his stepdad, who get a quick visit with their son and a rundown of his diagnosis and treatment. They’re lovely and by the time Louis gets to his car that night, exhausted and his stomach growling, he can’t get his mind off Harry’s unsolicited compliments. They were obviously given through a film of hyperglycemic stupor but it was still strange and oddly sweet and Louis knows that the stupor can give strange ideas and thoughts or reveal thoughts not unlike being drunk.

Before he starts driving while his car heats up, he responds to Fizzy’s texts about how Harry’s fallen onstage during a live performance, telling her that he’s fine. He tosses his phone aside and drives home, biting back his popstar-proclaimed nice smile.

 

Louis works until midnight the next night, long hours part of being an A&E doctor (he should really consider becoming a GP or a specialist) and he spends most of his break promising Fizzy that her favourite popstar is just fine, careful not to mention any details of it but promising her that he’s okay. Their hospital makes it onto the news, a media liaison dealing with them and the band’s PR team, which sounds like a big headache that Louis is glad he isn’t involved in.

On his last walk around the ward, getting water for an old lady who slipped and broke her hip and is waiting until morning for surgery, his last stop is Harry’s room. He nods at the bodyguards and they let him in without fuss, his ID clipped onto his coat, and Harry is on the bed, tapping and poking at his phone despite the many times he’s been scolded for it already.

“Hey, what have we told you?” Louis asks, going over to check his heart monitor and his IV.

Harry looks up, big green eyes innocent. “It’s just Twitter, I swear.”

“Oh, in that case,” he teases. “How do you feel?”

“Thirsty,” Harry says. “But better than yesterday. Still kind of death-like, though.”

“That should go away soon. Any new side effects?”

Harry shakes his head, curls bouncing a little. “Hey, um, I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says quietly, looking at Louis with big pleading eyes.

“About being sick? Yeah, how dare you,” Louis quips sarcastically. It gets a quiet chuckle from Harry.

“No, I mean, like, what I said. Because apparently I complimented you a lot and that was probably weird so I’m sorry about that.”

Louis chuckles. “No worries, mate, I’ve had weirder.”

“Weirder than a popstar in your hospital?”

“No, this is a first for me and it’s pretty cool,” he says, moving his heart monitor to a different finger for just something to do and an excuse to stay longer. “Like, my sister is a huge fan and she just wants to come to work with me.”

It hits him after it’s out of his mouth that that was probably a strange thing to say and he clamps his teeth down on his tongue so he might not say anything else embarrassing.

Harry laughs softly. “Bring an album or something, I’ll sign it for her.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you, you’re my patient and everything.” It makes him  _other_  and Louis has this weird sensation of wanting to treat Harry like he’s a normal person because he really is. Fancy title gone and career aside, he’s a normal person.

“I’d be glad to do it,” Harry says, smiling at him. “How old is she?”

“Fourteen, but you really don’t have to.”

“I’d love to, Dr. Tomlinson.”

He smiles. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry. Goodnight.”

Louis goes to the door, checking the time on his watch as Harry returns the platitude, but when Louis’ hand touches the doorknob he speaks up. “Wait, Dr. Tomlinson,” he says.

“Hmm?” He asks, turning to look at him.

“This is a really weird question but like, could I have died? If I hadn’t gotten here sooner or something like that…”

“That is a weird question,” Louis chuckles, shrugging. “I suppose you could have.”

Harry nods. “Well, thanks for being a good doctor and stuff. Goodnight.”

“You’re welcome, and goodnight.”

 

Over the course of a couple days, Louis oversees Harry and speaks to international stars more often than he ever thought he would when he got his medical licence. His condition improves and his ketone levels drop while his blood glucose levels even out. Much to the anger of his team, they’re unable to do an interview and appearance on some TV show because of Harry’s illness and he admits that he feels really bad about it to Louis but there really isn’t anything that can be done. He even makes good on his promise for Louis and has letters written out to Louis’ sisters, which makes them cry out of happiness.

A little under a week after being admitted, Harry is released with a new ketone level monitor. Louis is the last person to check up on him and get his discharge papers in order, filling them out while Harry sat on the bed in track pants.

“So you guys are going through the back exit?” Louis asks to make chitchat.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Else we’d have to get our stylists in here and I just want to go home, honestly.”

“I can imagine,” he chuckles. “Okay, so everything is in order and you’re feeling well?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m just kind of sick of hospitals.”

“That makes sense. Thank you again for doing that for my sisters, they were over the moon.”

He smiles. “I just wish I could’ve met them, too, that would’ve been cool.”

Louis laughs. “They would never have shut up about it.”

(He hates to admit it but something about being with Harry is just so natural and lovely, like they’ve been friends for years. Something about him makes him want to tell him everything about his life and know everything about him as well.)

Harry chuckles and is quiet for a few minutes. “Will you go to dinner with me?” He asks.

Louis looks at him. “Sorry?”

“Go to dinner with me,” he says softly, smiling widely even though his eyes are nervous. “Like, as a thank you, if it’s allowed. I could have died and I want to thank you for saving my life.”

“Just saying thank you is good enough, really, and what you did for my sisters,” Louis stammers out. He wants to but it isn’t really the most ethical thing to do, dating a patient.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay, I just don’t feel like saying thanks is really good enough and I wanted to do something else. But, thank you, you don’t have to go to dinner with me.”

“It’s just – ethics and all,” he manages. “But they’re just suggestions and I mean, like, yeah, sure.” He sounds like such a knob.

Harry smiles. “Cool. Can I get your number once I figure out the details?”

Louis recites his phone number and finishes up discharging Harry, taking a deep breath once he’s gone as it sinks in that  _a popstar is taking him to dinner_ and not only is he going to dinner with a popstar, he’s going to dinner with Harry, a person he’s been denying attraction towards for just under a week now.  


He’s absolutely fucked.

 

They decide on a night a few days after Harry’s release from hospital, when he’s feeling much better than he was before and a night when Louis isn’t working. He runs the lint roller over his pants three times before he goes because today was the day that Neville decided to be extremely affectionate and he didn’t want to show up to his date with white fur all over his nice pants. Louis reminds himself in the cab that this isn’t a date, which he keeps thinking it is mistakenly, even though it’s really just Harry thanking him for treating his illness.

It’s a fancy restaurant with mood lighting and candles and dishes priced high enough that, out of nerves and discomfort, he ends up getting a salad. The night goes well and Louis relaxes considerably after just a few minutes of being with Harry and he finds out a lot about him that he didn’t already know. Blue is his favourite colour, he’s got an older sister and he loves Zayn and Niall absolutely to death. He lets slip halfway through the night that they’re dating after telling a funny story about them kissing and then spends the next five minutes begging Louis never to tell anyone and divulging that he could be sued if anyone finds out he’s told.

Louis shares some things about himself as well, telling stories about his sisters but reminding himself not to alienate Harry and trying his hardest to make a good impression because he really does like Harry.

He gets a ride home from Harry when he opens his phone to call for another cab and they listen to the radio, Harry groaning when one of their songs comes on and Louis trying to sing along loudly but he only knows the chorus so he fumbles the rest of it.

“No, no!” Harry laughs at a red light a block away from where he lives. “You’re getting the lyrics so wrong.”

“I know,” Louis chuckles, leaning over to turn the radio down. He’s too bad at singing to keep doing it.

“I’m offended you don’t know my songs.”

“I’m offended, too.”

“Why?” Harry laughs.

“Dunno, just am.”

They both laugh as Harry pulls up in Louis’ driveway.

“Do you want to come in for some tea or something? I make a great cuppa.”

“If you insist,” Harry says, smiling.

They go inside, Neville scared off by the stranger and hiding in her basket, watching him nervously while they go to the kitchen and Louis starts the kettle boiling as he gets two mugs and puts teabags in them.

“Nice place,” Harry comments, fingers tracing over the countertop.

“Thanks,” Louis says. “Yours is probably nicer.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s bigger and lonelier and it’s still really new and I’m not used to it yet because I’m on tour so often. This is cozy, like home.”

Louis doesn’t want to ask it but he really does. So he does. “Are you often lonely?” He asks.

“I guess yeah,” he says softly. “Like, I’ve got Zayn and Niall but they’ve got each other. I don’t see my family all that often because I’m so busy and whenever someone shows interest in me I have to be kind of wary. Like, is it for me as I am or is it for me, Harry Styles the rich popstar?”

The kettle starts making noise. “That really sucks, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, I find good people now and then.”

Louis smiles as he grabs the sugar out of the cupboard, away from where Neville can lick it if she sees it. The kettle starts to boil and Louis looks over at Harry as he gets two teaspoons. “Was this… was this a date?”

Harry shrugs, smiling a little. “If you want it to be.”

It’s so vague and Louis sighs quietly, setting the spoons down.

“I’d like if it was.”

Louis looks at him, starting to smile. “Yeah? Well dates always end with a kiss, don’t they?”

“Then you’ll have to wait until we’ve finished our tea, won’t you?”

“Can I just kiss you now?”

Harry smiles, nodding, and Louis steps closer to wear he is, their socked toes connecting as their lips do.

 


End file.
